Once I had a rather scary experience on a plane trip, hackles raised like an animal's before an earthquake. From the moment we took off I wanted to be off the plane; even before there was a bit of turbulence my I was clutching the arm of the seat and twitching. I have never been a nervous flier. I used to love flying. But for some reason, this on particular flight I was practically hyperventilating. I just wanted to be off of that plane.

Over the middle of Pennsylvania the captain announced that there was weather in Pittsburgh that might cause a delay for our landing. I was seized by the feeling that we MUST NOT land in Pittsburgh. Cleveland I was ready to land in, I would spend the night, walk home the next day, anything - anything but landing in Pittsburgh. We were circling the city waiting for clearance to land - perfectly smooth flying - but my heart was racing and sweat was beading on my forehead.

After half an hour of circling I was frantic, imagining how I might fake a seizure or storm the cockpit if we were going to attempt to land. I was ready to do it. I was fully prepared to go to jail, or to a psychiatric ward, rather than have that damn plane land in Pittsburgh.

I can't die now, or he'll never know.

Finally the captain announced that we would instead be landing in Harrisburg to wait out the storm. I calmed down almost immediately.

It turned out that the gusting downdrafts of the storm would have crushed the plane into the ground if we'd tried to land in Pittsburgh. But the weather passed over us and off to the east. We were cleared to try again, and when we left Harrisburg I was not anxious at all.

Ever since then, bumpy flights have made me a little nervous.

Flying with a certain person this past weekend I wasn't nervous at all, because even if we crashed I knew that the last act of my life would be to tell him that I loved him.

Weird, huh?